


One Winter Morning

by mrnorrell



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dialogue, Drabble, I don't know, exploring emotions, is this just fantasy, is this the real life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrnorrell/pseuds/mrnorrell
Summary: Language, swearing





	One Winter Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Language, swearing

The light outside was just breaking when John stirred in his bed. It was the slightest of movements but enough to wake up the woman next to him. Voicing her displeasure, she shifted her weight away from him and pulled on the covers, leaving John out in the cold. It was the middle of December with at least two feet of snow covering the outside. His favorite month of the year. Though not when he had no covers. He shivered involuntarily before finally opening his eyes and squinting at the small alarm clock on the bed side table. Almost seven in the morning. Grunting, John rolled out of bed, perching on the edge, and rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't sleep well. Again.

"Anne?" he called out to the woman on the other side of the bed, turning just enough to see her pull the covers over her head. He sighed and tugged on the covers. "Anne, come on. It's nearly seven." Momentary silence filled the room before Anne's muffled voice came in reply.

"Go away." she mumbled, refusing to leave the comfort of the blanket burrito she had wrapped herself in. She didn't want to face the day, not today. Not John. 

"Honey, you know you can't stay in bed all day." he replied, getting up. Fumbling in the still darkened room, he managed to pull out a shirt and a pair of warm pajama pants. He was putting his second leg in when he heard Anne finally stir behind him. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, pulling the shirt over his head. "I know it can't be-"

"No, John, I don't want to talk about it, dammit. I just.... Can we just forget about it?" Her voice trailed into the darkness, fading into the land filled with empty promises. John nodded, though he did not know why. He wanted to talk about it. Hell, he _needed_ to talk about it. 

"Anne," he began, but stopped himself. He knew there was no easy way to do this, no easy way to say it. Pausing for a brief moment, he shook his head to clear it then walked into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. 

"Do you have plans for today?" he asked instead, squeezing toothpaste out onto the toothbrush. Was it always this green? For some reason, he thought it was blue before.

"Eve wanted to come over."

"How is Eve?"

"She's good."

"Her husband?"

"Good, too."

"That's good."

Heavy silence filled the space between them like wet snow. How did it get to this. He stared at his own reflection in the bright bathroom light. Rugged, worn, old. He hadn't shaved in over a week.

"You going to work?" Anne's voice broke through his thoughts. Snapping out of it, John brought the hand holding the toothbrush up the rest of the way to his mouth.

"Yes." he replied before starting the two minute countdown in his mind as per his dentist's recommendation. In the other room, Anne finally brought her head out from under the blanket. She watched in silence as John brushed his teeth, the noise oddly foreign. It made her feel a bit uncomfortable. 

"Did you like the movie?" she asked. It was a silly question. What she had meant to say was... Well, it did not matter what she wanted to say. It was irrelevant. Her feelings on the subject were irrelevant. 

"It wasn't bad." John replied, turning on the faucet and rinsing out his mouth. The cold water seemed colder than usual this morning. It made him want to take a hot shower. "The plot could have been better and the acting at times was shoddy at best."

"Oh, I see." was all Anne said in return. The weather was the only subject left to talk about. And even that wasn't much. Cold and snow. At least they wouldn't have to spend the whole day together.

Anne was about to pull the covers back over her head to hide from the encroaching light when the phone rang. The loud noise startled her but not as much as John's swift reaction. He was out of the bathroom and by the phone in mere seconds.

"Rhodes residence. Who am I speaking to?" he answered. His voice was rough, expectant. Anne cringed. But John stood unmoving, looking outside the window. 

"Yes." he replied. "Yes. Of course. I understand. Thank you, Mr. West." and that was that. He hung up the phone and walked back into the bathroom.

Anne waited a few seconds before asking.

"Was that your boss?"

"They don't need me today." he said, shutting off the faucet. He had forgotten to do so in his haste to answer the phone. 

"Does that mean you're staying home?"

"Probably. Do you want me to leave?"

Anne shifted in bed uncomfortably. 

"Eve is coming over." she reiterated as if that would make all the difference.

"I know." John replied. "Do you want me to go get some food for us?"

He could hear the sinking disappointment in his wife's voice. Part of him wanted to go to work. The part that didn't want to face the obvious. But a small part of him was glad he was called off. He would be a terrible person if he admitted that this small part of him wanted to cause Anne discomfort. So he pushed the feeling down. Leaning over the sink, his fingers curled around the edges of the white porcelain, he stared back at himself. His eyes were bloodshot and his head was still throbbing. 

"What does Eve like?" he asked, leaning in closer, looking for something that was clearly no longer there. 

"We could get Chinese." Anne suggested halfheartedly. "Eve said she's never had Chinese."

"That's surprising." John replied, putting as much emphasis into his words as he could. He was certain his wife would understand the meaning. 

"John!"

A tiniest hint of a smirk played upon his lips.

"She doesn't exactly make her affairs private." he retorted. Turning on the faucet again, he waited a few seconds before running his hands under the slightly warmer water. 

"Eve is not like that!"

"Eve is Eve."

"But she's not a -"

"A what?" John interrupted, collecting water in his palms. "A whore?"

"John!" there was evident anger in her voice this time. A sudden wave of frustration washed over him, unresolved feelings from the night before. Clenching his jaw, he bent over the sink and splashed the water on his face, running his wet fingers through the tangled mess that was his hair. 

"She's just... I don't know, curious." It was desperation this time, as if Anne was trying to validate her reasoning, however unsuccessfully.

"Is that what you were, Anne?" John asked, peering from behind the bathroom door at her. Her back was to him. "Curious? Tell _me_ something, sweetheart. How was _he_?"

A short pause filled the air before the reply came. 

"Oh, you think you're so innocent and so clever, don't you?" Anne spat, turning around and facing him. "Well, let me tell you then. Let me tell you how good he was. How when he kissed me I felt my stomach twist in knots. How when he touched me, it sent shivers down my spine. He made me feel so good, John. So fucking good. Is that what you want to know? How so much better than you he is?" The covers were on the floor by the time Anne was done and she was on her feet. Each word uttered struck through John like an icy dagger. He had to grab onto the counter for support. He hadn't meant to ask that. He didn't want to know. Why did he even ask? That was such a stupid question. Ignoring the wet stains on his shirt, he swiftly exited the bathroom and rushed out the bedroom, avoiding eye contact with Anne.

"Look who's running away now!" she shouted behind him. "Don't you want to know more?"

She didn't want to say more. She didn't want to talk about it in the first place. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't. Damn this day and damn this stupid cold winter. She kicked at the blanket on the floor but got caught in the folds, falling down. The floor was hard and it hurt like hell but Anne didn't want to get up. She let the tears come. 

Stupid blanket.


End file.
